


smiles

by kidcomrade



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian, Master and Commander - All Media Types, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcomrade/pseuds/kidcomrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reflection upon the many expressions of a certain Captain Aubrey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smiles

It's oddly fascinating to see how many emotions one can convey with a normally singular expression. Jack Aubrey's the master of such a feat, Stephen's decided--each curve of his face, every minute little muscle that bends with the lift of a lip means something decidedly different once a person's spent enough time with him. Reading his smiles is nearly an art.

There is the grin and guffaw of triumph, the easiest to read--and also the most infectious, he's found. It's hard to not crack a smile when one's friend is beaming in a manner that'd normally suggest sheer mania--the pride written upon his face glows and warms even the most great of skeptics. Himself included. After all, it was this near-crazed joy that'd first won him over, years ago in Port Mahon, when Jack had first been promoted to captain. It comes after some victory, the lines, lessened by happiness as they are, often flecked with blood and sweat, the cost of a battle; once the ecstasy's worn off, he's no doubt the one to wipe the blood from his friend's brow, mumbling to himself how Jack should take more care when traipsing about the oceans, brandishing sword and pistol.   
  
When on shore, Jack has a certain mischievous smirk, accentuated by drink, that's often cast in the direction of the woman of the night.  
  
He dislikes those. They've proven too troublesome to deal with, and Jack usually returns miserable and hung over.  
  
There is also the smile of pride, usually preceding or following the triumphant grin. When Captain Aubrey's got one of those set on his face, it's when he's gotten something right, or when he is about to; the gears in his mind are turning, the expert strategist at work planning a volley here, some other deft ship's maneuver there. Regardless, it's a testament to his skill as a captain when even an outsider such as the doctor is impressed by such a look.  
  
Jack smiles when he isn't happy, too. Only the lips move, then, and the rest of his face remains curiously fixed in a position of anger or sadness or, God forbid, fatigue. An exhausted Captain Aubrey is something that Stephen hates to see, because it means that Jack is honestly worn to the bone, as limitless as his energy seems at times. Has he gotten enough sleep, Stephen wonders, has he been eating well, is he ill? Jack simply sighs and (usually) gives himself over to be poked and prodded once more--Stephen's made it clear over the years that his rule of ship surgeon is law, even if his captain is sometimes stubborn in that respect.  
  
And yet, there's one last smile, the most rarely seen, private smile--the one he gets all to himself. It's gentle, in a way, but not so gentle; it is filled with more of an earnestness, a very real and nearly palpable sincerity, than softness alone.   
  
Jack's eyes, blue and deep as they are, ease into the rest of the smile, and his entire body seems to relax with the expression. Stephen's seen the man restless, angry, tired, disheartened--hell, he's felt half the emotions right alongside him--but when this particular look manages to spreads itself upon the other man's face, Stephen knows. He is peaceful. Jack is, more than anything, happy. Truly happy. He cannot be sure, but he has a feeling that the smile he echoes back looks much the same.  
  
Stephen also knows that the only other who's been on the receiving end of this smile is the sea herself.  
  
"Stephen?"  
  
The doctor breaks from his reverie and turns to Captain Aubrey--"Yes, joy?"  
  
"Why have you stopped playing?" The other man frowns--brow wrinkled, lips turned down in concern. He sets his violin, tucked under his chin, down, allowing the instrument to rest upon his knee for but another moment. "Is something the matter?"  
  
He can't help but chuckle as he plucks the strings of his cello. The low thrum is satisfying--as is the knowledge that Jack won't be frowning much longer. "No, soul. Nothing at all."  
  
And it's a sure thing.  
  
Jack smiles.


End file.
